Trainer Drabbles
by Clownequin
Summary: It's tough, training. Your Pokemon need constant work. But it's more difficult, sometimes, to work with other trainers.
1. Chapter 1

"Do you know Rob?"

You spot a girl, red hair, face shaped like a heart. Stylish silver coat.

"Never met him in my life," you answer smiling. Ahead of you two Rob is under the spotlight, there's cheering. It's a local stadium; lively though.

"He's weak really. You'll see."

You don't respond.

"I'm Sam. After our fight we'll be travelling together, so I hope you're ready."

You desperately wish Sam would back off, leave, go away. You shrug and turn slightly. You see Sam watching Rob walking over. You'd only just met your camp mates, and already there was tension.

* * *

Nobody talked at first. Just sneakers beating pavement, three kids walking across the plains.

The weather didn't help. Wind whistled from the coast and you occasionally were spritzed by a shock of grey rain. A low siren blared as Olivine's trademark worked.

Rob's Oddish was out of its ball, resting in a pot of dirt he carried. Like it was nothing. Arms like cables.

"My Voltorb can't be out, but what's yours?" Sam asks during a break from the clouds.

Your Growlithe wouldn't appreciate this weather, of course.

It's a few minutes later you realize you didn't answer her. Damn.

* * *

"Hey, where'd you put my phone, Sam?" Rob's brown mophead ducked into the tent. A handbook flies past you at him. _101 Edible Johto Plants_ smacks his cheek spine-first.

"I didn't touch your gadget, dingus."

"There was no need to throw a book at me!" Said handbook sits forgotten on the lumpy floor.

Sam laughs meanly. "Hurt your poor little nose?"

You turn another page in your magazine. There was an article about common mutations seen in domesticated Tropius bananas.

Rob's head disappeared. Sam chuckled, the same way she did when Rob was scared by a Spinerak the other day.


	2. Chapter 2

Growlithe is beside you as you wake up. You slept on the ground, apparently. Your partner patiently let you lift yourself with him, red velvet fur helping you balance.

Ahead of you was the dense forest the three of you camped by. A light breeze rustled the trees, but nobody else was in sight.

"Naptime's over, slacker!" Rob is standing closer to the tent. His Oddish is digging around and a Magnemite floats by his shoulder. "Next time you should hit yourself before you conk out."

Growlithe looked at you and wagged his tail. You must've been fighting a Butterfree.

* * *

The rain was the worst of it, usually. None of them had thought to bring an umbrella, and now you were following Sam's Voltorb as it rolled, brightly, down the path.

Everything was soaked of course. Besides the books you purchased a small waterproof bag expressly for, your belongings were drenched in your backpack. It's miserable.

A door illuminated by Voltorb's light, and it ran into the door with a dull thud.

Sam fished out a pokeball. "Thanks Jolt!" Voltorb disappeared.

Does everyone nickname their Pokémon? You haven't. Does Rob?

Silently all three of you file into the shelter, grateful.

* * *

"So, which of you three is stronger?" Wrinkles round an old man's face. Years of smiling left him with crow's feet 'round his eyes.

The question surprises you. There hadn't been much interbattling since you left Olivine months ago.

"I'm the best," says Sam. "I've beaten both of these two, and I've got the most Pokémon of us anyway."

She caught a Beedrill the other day. Ugly, but fast.

"You _lost_ the challenge before we left!"

Rob defended you, but you were in contemplation.

The old man offered you his personal arena, to test your strength. You accepted, of course.

* * *

Temples were abundant across Johto, but only Ecruteak had neighbourhoods of them.

"Aren't there famous takeout places around here?" Sam asks you. You had the tourist pamphlet.

There were noodle shops, but you'd heard there were just as many scams. Trainers who ate and left afterwards sleepy, not noticing their Pokémon stolen from them by other 'customers'.

So you lied, and shook your head no.

"Gah. What's a trainer got to _do_ to get some grub around here!"

Choice words came to mind, an old saying about Beedrills. You hold your tongue, and lead the way out of the city.


	3. Chapter 3

Growlithe wasn't having trouble cooking wild meat any more. A well-roasted Raticate would feed your group for the night, and then some.

Rob's hand drops to your shoulder. Even in the daylight his eyes reflect the flames. "Aren't you tired of how pushy she is?"

You see it every day when Sam ribs him, when she thinks you aren't looking. She pulls his hair until his eyes water, and challenges him to a training battle.

It's hardly a surprise when Rob looks away after a minute of silence. You carry your weight, and he carries his. Nothing personal, after all.

* * *

Small towns dominate the path. Merchants and store owners compete to hawk trinkets, because trainers are loaded with cash. Richest business in the land, you'd be a fool to not follow those ambitious young kids.

Rob and you enjoy sundaes at a corner café. Refreshing, after days of old water and jerky.

"I got the biggest they had." Sam drops two hefty flasks on the tabletop.

"Why's yours bigger than ours?" Rob scrutinizes the bottles immediately. You set yours aside.

"You didn't give me enough money, obviously." She smiles.

At least now you won't have to turn back for water.

* * *

A first-aid kit is a must when you're out trekking across wilderness.

"Hold still! What did you think you were doing?"

"…"

Sam wraps gauze around your ankle and you try not to flinch. How were you to know that Sudowoodo filled the local forests? You can still limp, so there shouldn't be a fuss.

"And where did that idiot go? What a time to run off."

When you're shaken awake you can hear the bugs' night time cacophony. "I got something that should help," Rob explains. He's got a graze on his arm, staining his shirt to the cuff.

* * *

Rhyhorn makes a good wagon while your leg heals. There wasn't much room, she was only young. Rob told you her name was Kassie. You ride with all the gear.

The compass bearing east, your group marched a dusty trail. One day there was a caravan.

"Sorry, we're all out of money…" Sam gives an apologetic smile, and the old couple laugh. They signal their Meganium to stop.

"Have you heard the news? The big factory in town, it's shutting down soon." Gossip is useful trail-speak. The five of you prepare camp together. It's nice to be in a group.


End file.
